Let’s fast!

Um no.
Was my first response.
Actually I think it was my first 38 responses.

Him: No one NEEDS to eat as much as they do.
Me: Nodding. I get that. But fries(!!!). Oh god, do I love a fried starch.
Him: You’ll get so much energy…you’ll feel great!
Me: I think I should watch you, get inspired, then try it out.
Him: You say you like to try new things…

I don’t know how it came to be that I agreed to fast.
Honestly, I think I was bored and that’s often dangerous.
I mean, it could cause a person to not eat for 11 days.

A few hours into Fast Day One…
Me: Oh my god, what are we going to do after we smoke weed?
Him: Uh, Rumi, we don’t smoke while we fast.
Me: WHAT?!
Him: Have you not been listening? It’s not just food; we’re getting pure.

What the shitty shit have I just agreed to?
I don’t meditate.
I’m not seeking mental clarity or an epiphany.
But at this point it seems like a good challenge. And it’s true that I’ve been feeling pretty lethargic and kinda gross in general so…yeah, let’s fast.

I’d never fasted before so I decide to maintain it until I can’t or don’t want to anymore, whichever comes first.

The first few days I think about how to handle hunger, hang out with friends at bars and restaurants, what if food smells gross me out, or I feel weak, would I be angry for being hungry, etc. I filter quite a few what if’s and feel excited about the new challenge and before I know it, I’m 2.5 days into the fast.

My body temperature fluctuates. A lot. I feel an intense heat radiate from within a few times a day. I’m a bit shaky for no more than 30 minutes every evening, between 21-23:30, towards the end of my work shift. I nap almost everyday; he tells me it’s a good way to conserve energy and let my body have extra rest.

The sight and smell of food don’t gross me out. Everything smells and looks fucking fabulous BUT I don’t want to eat except for a 15-minute window towards the end of my work-night. My sober self goes out to a drunken, hungover brunch and I’m severely tempted by fatty-fat dripping burgers and endless mimosas. But temptation isn’t indulged and she moves right along.

Life slows down, slows way down.
I calm down, my thought process is much more deliberate. Little things fall by the wayside; actually, they don’t even blip on my radar. I contemplate many things but it’s not necessarily deep thoughts, just thoughts.
Maybe I’m physically incapable of rapid-fire thoughts or knee-jerk emotional responses.
Maybe I’m gaining…clarity?

It was a peaceful, interesting and unexpectedly fulfilling 11 days.
Fast Day 12 doesn’t happen because I simply don’t want to fast anymore.
I want consumable energy.
I make a veggie soup and it is delicious.

Oh, and that first hit of pot, post-fast?
I-n-c-r-e-d-iiiiiiiiiii-b-l-e.
Pura Vida.